


five minutes

by indraaas



Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: 3 am nonsense ahoy, F/M, my favourite dumbasses, tumblr request for stars :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23474098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indraaas/pseuds/indraaas
Summary: Her eyes flutter shut, sinking into the feeling of Dara all around her.  When she dies and they clean her for burial, they won’t be able to separate the parts of her bones that are hers and where he’s burnt himself into them.
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri
Kudos: 9





	five minutes

Nahri learns very quickly - and _very_ happily - that people are not allowed to touch her. She’s a Nahid, after all, and while (for now) that means she’s apparently royalty and a healer and all the things she’s ever dreamed of, that means she’s also untouchable. 

And to the thief raised on the harsh streets of Cairo, that is worth more than whatever gold the al-Qahtani’s can possibly throw her way.

The only downside to this is that, as her Afshin, Dara is even more restricted in the kind of contact he can have with her, even when she wants nothing more to drag him to her opulent chambers and finish what they started in the cave.

“You seem to be adjusting well to Daevabad, Banu Nahida,” Dara says, silding behind her as close as he dares. Nisreen eyes him carefully, but Nahri can’t focus on that when her body is so wholly attuned to the warmth at her side. There’s at least a foot between them but every breath she takes draws the room smaller and smaller, until it’s just him and her, breathing life into one another.

She blinks, forcing herself to concentrate on the rhythmic movements of crushing poultice in her mortar. 

“Yes, thank you Da-Afshin,” she corrects quickly under Nisreen’s gaze. “I have found immense joy in this hospital.” _And I could find so much more if you’d just get a bit closer…_

“I am pleased. Nisreen, if you could give us a moment please? There’s something I must discuss with the Banu Nahida.” Dara shoots her a smile that’s all-too boyish for the hardened planes of his face. Any protests Nisreen might have had crumble under the earnest weight in his eyes.

“You get five minutes,” she warns, sweeping out of the room. “Times haven’t changed much since you were last here, Afshin!”

“I can see that…” Dara murmurs. Nahri squeezes the pestle so hard something - either the pestle or her knuckles - crack. She’s not wholly blind to the implications of him dismissing her guardian like that and any other day this would’ve sent her into an apoplexy, all it does right now is have her skin prickle, hyperaware of his presence behind her.

“How are you, really, Nahri?” Dara asks softly, and the way he rolls her name off his tongue has her knees trembling. How does she explain how touch-starved she is, just for him? Some nights, the brush of her blanket against her legs has her mind careening back to the way his pants shifted against her legs in the caves. Others, she spends in a daze, watching the smoke of the fire burning away in her room and wishing she could melt away in its haze.

“It’s been weird adjusting to all this,” Nahri says finally, waving at the room. “I mean, to go from back home to this so quickly…and to find out I’m the last of an ancient line…it’s not really hit yet.”

“It will. This is your birthright after all,” Dara declares with such fierce pride it fans at the soft crackles of longing within her; she knows she belongs here, everyone says so, but every time she stumbles or says something wrong, she can’t help but shrink away from the world she now calls her own. The people are understanding, eager, even, to show her the ropes, but there’s a distant hum in her head telling her it’s all lies.

But Dara is _her_ Afshin - he would never lie.

“How are you liking it here? Being back home?” Nahri asks quickly, making a scene of reaching past him to grab some herb she’s already crushed into the mix. The motion slides her a good few inches closer to him, so the defined curve of his bicep is just barely pressed against her shoulder. 

Dara doesn’t step away.

“It’s been a while and with the al-Qahtani’s in power…” he shakes his head. The loathing in his eyes melts away to something much fonder, a twinkle reserved just for her. “So long as you are by my side, I am happy.”

“Yes, that’s been hard, hasn’t it? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Dara’s amusement is palpable. “Nahri, are you saying you’ve missed me?”

“Oh, yes, terribly,” Nahri says dryly, “Can’t even go to bed at night wondering what you’re up to.”

His fingers skate up her back, pausing over the curve of her shoulder. Nahri thinks she’s on fire; it’s the only explanation for the way every last nerve in her body seems to light up all at once under his touch, barely-there that it is. Her eyes flutter shut, sinking into the feeling of Dara all around her. When she dies and they clean her for burial, they won’t be able to separate the parts of her bones that are hers and where he’s burnt himself into them.

“My apologies, Banu Nahida-”

“Don’t call me that. Not…not now.”

“Nahri,” he purrs, tracing his hand down to the slope of her retracted shoulderblades, slotting themselves into the phantom divots left by those very fingers in the cave. “You missed me.”

Nahri wheels around, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him so forcefully she tastes blood. “We have two minutes, Dara. Better make up for it.”

“Oh, trust me, love. I will.”


End file.
